Harry Potter and the Shard of Darkness
by RonninBlade
Summary: The final battle is over at last, and Harry is ready for the first time in his life, to live, free of fear, or constant struggle. That is, until, in a dream, he receives a cryptic message from Dumbledore, and thus begins a whole new adventure.
1. King's Cross, Again

Chapter One

King's Cross, Again

Harry sighed, and rested his all too world weary head on his pillow. It had indeed been a long week, filled with almost as much exhausting celebration as burdensome grief. Voldemort was gone at last, and yet there was still little time to look ahead, towards his own suddenly bright future, amid so much handshaking, consoling, and the like. After the battle, he had possessed so much strength, so much confidence. Victory was indeed a great morale booster, but in the wake of the many celebrations and funerals that he had had to attend, whatever power the victory had granted him to stay his own weariness was long gone.

In the midst of so long a week, he had scarce little alone time with his friends, and even less time to enjoy the company of the one person who above all he sought – Ginny. And still, with all the commotion and tears shed, still she would catch his eye now and again; a tender glance towards him as he shook hands with the myriad of admirers, a reassuring smile as he bore the right hand of Remus Lupin's casket. And it was with thoughts of her that he drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day; the last of this weary-making week. Tomorrow would come, and he would say the last of his goodbyes.

He had not yet woken. That was clear, yet the dream in which he now stood was as vivid and bright and clear as morning sunlight. It was also just as familiar. He was back at King's Cross station.

"Hello Harry." said the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry turned, and there he stood.

"Professor Dumbledore? What's—"

"Come, Harry, we must talk. I shall explain everything I can, and then, I must ask you a favor." Dumbledore turned, and Harry followed him along the platform.

"It's good to see you, professor."

"It is good to see you too, Harry, though I fear that we shall not leave this meeting on such pleasant terms." Harry looked into Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes, and he saw there something he had never seen before – nervousness, and apprehension.

"What's wrong, professor?" Harry asked,

"I am afraid I have need of your assistance once more, Harry. I would like you to know how much I trust you, but, unfortunately, for what is at stake, I must ask you to risk your life, once again, in the name of secrets and lies."

"What is it you need me to do?" asked Harry, his trust in professor Dumbledore unwavering once more.

"I need you to find someone for me. Her name is Magda Allard. Unfortunately, I can tell you little else besides her name. Just know that the danger involved in this journey is no less than what you have had to deal with up until now, and as such, no risk taken should be taken lightly."

"Does this have to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked, slightly apprehensive himself now,

"Thankfully, no, though the dark wizards whom you may come up against should be considered no less dangerous, or crafty, for that matter."

"Who are they, that they can be considered on par with Voldemort?" Harry asked

"They are the very ones who taught him. Though they never really became involved in the great power struggle to which you recently put an end, they are largely responsible for much of the bloodshed that Voldemort brought about." Said Dumbledore.

They walked on in silence for some time, Harry contemplating the question that had been on his mind for quite some time now, but he had been afraid to ask. It was as if asking the question would shatter the temporary connection he had with those who had passed on, and he was loath to do so. Finally, Dumbledore turned to him, a slight smile on his face, his eyes sparkling as they always did, once more giving Harry the impression that he could see into his soul.

"We are always with you Harry. Know that. Though we are not always able to show ourselves, we will stand with you in the darkest of times, and in the moments of your greatest triumph." His smile brightened, as tears welled in his eyes.

"let me tell you a secret. Something very few people know on your side of the veil that is the line between life and death. A patronus is more than simply your greatest and happiest memory. It is the very strength of your belief, your conviction to those you care for, and it is strongest when their presence around you is unclouded by your own fear or anger. Of all the patronuses I have seen, I would have to say that the two strongest among them were those of Severus Snape, and you, Harry. Severus' was so strong because, in the form of his caring for your mother, he was able to rise above his own anger, self hatred, and doubt. And, in a similar way, the pure love and devotion you display towards those you care about unlocks the strongest power you possess. So do not fear that those who are gone are gone forever, for nothing is ever completely lost."

Thus far unnoticed by the two, the obscured and misty sky had brightened, and Dumbledore said "it appears it is time for you to rejoin the waking world. Remember what I have told you. Find Magda Allard. I believe you know who you can trust to help you in this task." As the dream began to fade, Dumbledore called out "and remember, never underestimate the power of love." If Dumbledore said anything more, it was lost in the obscurity that is that place between waking and dream.

Throughout the many memorials he had attended, even for those in which he played a large part, he said scarce little during the ceremony, though it was not for lack of wanting to. He found himself tongue-tied, the sacrifices of those who had fallen in his name crushing the strength from his jaw. But then, as he walked up to Fred's casket, the purple and yellow spotted rose given to him by George in his hand, the words, as if coming to him from some other person thousands of miles away, flooded his mind. Still, though the words were there, he still did not yet possess the strength to speak them. He found that strength in the eyes of the Weasleys. He looked over them, one by one, and his strength grew. Finally, as his eyes settled on Ginny, the whole world seemed to float away, and there was nothing, save her face. And it was to her that he now spoke, the words feeling like firewhiskey on his throat and tongue; warming their way through his body, giving him the ability to continue standing, though his knees were weak.

"a lot of people died putting an end to Voldemort's reign of terror. A lot of good people. No-one asked them to, they just did it. They did it to…" his voice broke. These were the last words Remus Lupin had ever said to him. then he found strength once more, for he knew that nothing was gone forever, and that they were with him now, all of them. His mother, father, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dobby, Hedwig, Dumbledore, Fred. Once more, as it was as he walked towards his seemingly inevitable demise, they were his strength, and he smiled, though his voice was broken, and tears stood in his eyes.

"…They did it to make a world in which their families could live a happier life." His smile brightened. "I was there when Fred died. I watched him laugh, at Percy's joke, no less! I'm not saying anything about dying is fun, but what better way to go, especially for someone like Fred, than laughing at the joke of a loved one?"

He raised the purple yellow-spotted rose, and let it fall from his fingers. "Goodbye Fred. You will most definitely by missed."


	2. An Attempt to Catch Time as it Flies

Chapter Two

An Attempt to Catch Time as it Flies

As Harry stepped down from the podium that stood before Fred's grave, he felt a hand slip into his own, and as he turned, he saw the face of the one he cared for most in the world. He understood, now, as never before, what Dumbledore meant about the power of love being greatest of all. As they walked to the back of the crowd, having both said their goodbyes, he squeezed her hand a little tighter, for he could feel that pain of loss washing over her, and he would have given anything to protect her from that pain; an agony which he knew so well.

The funeral was short. Those that spoke, spoke only so much as they had to, knowing that Fred would have wanted to cut through the extraneous grieving, and get to the fun part - Harry, and most likely everyone else as well, could almost hear Fred's voice – "this is boring. Let's get to the part where the distant relatives say 'we really should get together under better circumstances.' And then don't owl for seven years at a clip, the exceptions being the occasional wedding or funeral."

After the funeral came the wake, but Harry inadvertently missed much of it, for as soon as the memorial had adjourned, her hand still clasped tightly in his, Ginny dashed out and away, onto the hills where he, she, Ron, and the twins had more than once played quidditch, those days of summers past seeming as distant as the farthest cloud, and, tears streaming from her eyes, she brought them tumbling to the grass. Ginny threw herself upon him, and he held her tightly as they kissed, caught in the throes of grief and blind passion. After some time, simply holding each other, the sorrow ebbing out and away in the tide of emotion that came from them, they turned their eyes skyward, for the sun was setting in the western sky, and the stars had just begun to shine in the east.

"Thank you." said Ginny, leaning over to him, and laying a light kiss upon his cheek,

"For what?" asked Harry, already knowing the answer – it seemed that it had always been this way between them; questions asked, not needing to be answered.

"I know how hard it was for you to speak up there, but you were just perfect… you were you – not famous Harry potter, just Harry. That's what I've always…" her voice trailed off, fearing to say the word, fearing that to say it might mean to lose him. It was the same feeling he felt so often. Having lost so many, he feared saying it at all might mean the end of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Anyway, I just…" again her words slipped into a silence, and she stared up at the stars, which now almost completely covered the darkening sky.

Harry knew he couldn't let it sit like this. He knew that he had to say something now, or risk losing her forever, either to her self doubt, or to his fear. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he was not ready – not for the words that needed saying. Fortunately, it was not needed, for his mouth was soon covered with her own, her lips on his, their tongues intertwining in a dance of passion. It was near midnight when they returned to the house, and though Mrs. Weasley could not be considered entirely happy, she wasn't too upset either.

The following morning, Harry called Ron, Hermione and Ginny into the room he shared with Ron.

"I know you're probably all going to be angry with me," said Harry, "but I had a dream the night before last, and in it, I met with professor Dumbledore."

The three others looked at him, astonished.

"Harry," said Ron, "you do know Dumbledore's dead, right?"

"Leave it to you to state the obvious, Ronald." Said Hermione, tersely,

Harry looked down at his hands. His patience, thankfully, was at an all time high. "This is the second time I've seen him, and he's been real enough for me both times."

Hermione put a hand on his, and said, as sympathetically as possible, "I understand how much you miss him, Harry, and all the others who're gone, but I don't think—"

"He wants me to go on another adventure. I have to find someone named Magda Allard. He says it's important."

There was silence. He looked up. He knew it wasn't that they didn't believe him, or trust him, but, just as he had, they had had enough of adventuring for a lifetime. It was only the sense of urgency in Dumbledore's words and voice that gave Harry the conviction to overcome his reluctance.

"I'm not asking you to come with me, you know I'd never do that, but I'm going. Tomorrow night."

"Then I'll be coming with you." said Ginny, without a moments hesitation.

Ron sighed. "Well, you know me, mate. I can't let you go stick your neck out for the rest of us without some worthwhile help – ow!" he said, rubbing his shoulder where Ginny had punched him.

Ginny and Ron looked at Hermione, who grinned. "Well, if we're going on another adventure, we should probably do it somewhat organized. I mean, last time we didn't have a plan for well over two months, and we were going barking mad, so what's the plan?"

"First, diagon alley. We need supplies for this trip, and I need to go to gringotts, if, that is, they'll still let me in." said Harry. "Then, we head to Hogwarts. We need to find out who Magda Allard is, and I think the best person to ask would be Dumbledore himself."

"Well, that's all well and good, but there's only one problem." Said Ron, "mum would rather kill us with chores of every shape and sort than let us go."

"Don't worry about that. I've got it covered." Said Ginny, her grin looking only slightly maniacal (Harry didn't notice. He was too busy staring at the way her nose wrinkled slightly when she smiled, and thinking how absolutely beautiful she was).

Later that morning, when they came down to breakfast, Harry found it hard to not look at the clock, which now stated that everyone save Fred was at the breakfast table. (Fred's clock hand had stopped on permanently indisposed. George had mentioned the day before that Fred would have found that funny, and burst into a sobbing fit shortly thereafter) had Harry looked at the clock, he would have noticed something somewhat peculiar on the hand labeled Ginny, namely the small hearts which decorated the border of her name, which were not there before. Mr. Weasley glanced briefly at the clock, saw that his hand was pointing to "nearly so late that you'll be severely reprimanded", and rose from the unusually silent table, and began his trek to the burrow door. Ginny got up after him, and asked if she could walk him to the edge of the property. When she returned, she cleared her plate and headed upstairs, followed by Ron, Hermione, and finally Harry, who stayed behind to help completely clear the table.


	3. Really, Really Expensive Gifts

Chapter Three

Really, Really Expensive Gifts

when they arrived at diagon alley later that day, having told mrs. Weasley, quite honestly that they were going for Ginny's school supplies early, because they had heard of a sale on quills at flourish and blotts on the radio. When they arrived, any apprehension Harry felt towards being in so public a place after being in hiding for so long dissolved, as he gazed into the shop windows, and saw the young children laugh as they went from shop to shop, gazing at the latest in wizarding supplies. For the first time in a very long time, a free smile settled upon his face, and he breathed a sigh of happy relief. As they walked onwards, the stares of wizards and witches who had happened to look in their direction increased in volume, and Harry, who so recently had felt relief, felt a tightness surround his chest once more. Immediately, he felt Ginny's hand slip into his own, and give a light, reassuring squeeze. He looked to her and smiled, and saw her eyes widen, as she looked towards quality quidditch supplies. It didn't take long for him to see what she was looking at. In the window was quite possibly the most amazing broom Harry had ever seen. It was sleek, black as ebony, with gold trim, and its form and function fit as fluidly as anything Harry had ever seen. Above the broom, were the words "_introducing the Storm Runner – the fastest and most versatile broom ever!" _Harry felt his mouth water, as he saw the broom. Forcing his eyes away from the shop window, he looked over at Ginny, and saw that she too had the look of hunger in her eyes.

They soon arrived at gringotts, where they met with Bill, to whom they had sent an owl earlier, in hopes that he could take them in to gringotts without being trapped in one of the vaults by the goblins. As they took a cart down to Harry's vault, the goblin with them keeping a sharp eye on them, a suspicious frown on his scrunched features, Bill began explaining about the relief movement for those who had lost family members to Voldemort's attacks.

"The relief fund has gained a great many contributors since You Know Who's fall, and we've raised close to two million galleons." He said, having to yell over the roar of the cart. "Ironically, some of the boldest contributors are reformed death eaters. Lucius Malfoy, for instance, went quietly to serve a term of seven months in Azkaban, and has donated a large amount to the relief fund. No doubt an attempt to remain accepted in wizarding society, but we can use all the help we can get."

They arrived at the vault, and as they prepared to enter, an envelope flew down the hallway from behind them, and landed in Bill's hands. He read over the address, and handed it to Harry, a slight smile on his badly scarred face. Harry opened the letter, and read:

To Mr. Harry Potter:

In honor of your many acts of bravery and sacrifice in the name of the good of all, the wizarding community would like to thank you, and present you with this gift.

-Tabitha Ternchly, department of honorable mentionings

As he finished reading this, the door to his vault swung open, and he saw, sitting amongst other items and gift baskets by the thousands, was the storm runner. Harry knelt before the broom, and as he passed his hand over the handle, it rose into the air, and hovered just below his fingers. This was a broom of brooms. After examining it carefully, assessing the broom's aerodynamics and sturdiness, he turned to Bill.

"I can't keep this." He said, his voice straining over the words he would give much not to have to say.

"Why not, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, why not?" said Ron, slightly irritated at Harry's selflessness in the face of so awesome a gift.

"The money that went to this broom should have gone to the families of those lost in the war against Voldemort. I won't take it."

"Well we can't bloody well return it, now can we? Used brooms don't tend to go for much, no matter what condition they're in, and quality quidditch supplies' policy is 'once it's out the door, it's used." Said a familiar voice coming from the passageway from which they came. As Kingsley Shacklebolt came into view, looking rather more stressed out than usual, Harry smiled brightly.

"Kingsley! Er, I mean minister— "blurted Ron, happily, but somewhat surprised,

"now don't go calling me that, after all we've been through! I've a hard enough time as it is getting used to that blasted title without friends using it." Said Kingsley, exasperatedly

"but Kingsley, why are you _here_?" asked Hermione, "didn't the ministry just send us this letter?"

"well, I was supposed to deliver it in person, but I just missed you at the entrance, and had to take a cart down, so I sent the letter on ahead."

"nonetheless, I told you already, I cant take this." Said Harry, regarding the broom with a wave of his hand, having to exercise most of his will to not look at it, which would surely cause him to change his mind.

"alright, alright. Look, the going price on a Nimbus 2000 these days is around a hundred and sixty galleons. Why don't you donate that to the relief fund and we'll call it even?"

Before he could answer, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny called out simultaneously.

"deal!"

Harry smiled, slightly relieved. "well, I cant argue with those odds."

When they arrived back on the surface, they said their goodbyes to Kingsley and Bill, and walked up the street, towards flourish and blotts, mostly because they would feel guilty if they went back on their word to Mrs. Weasley, but also because Hermione always ran through quills like a cheetah on the savanna. After some time idling in the store, Harry, looking down at the broom shaped packaged now held in his fist, had a tremendous thought. Having been bored and insomnious the night prior, he had idly read the first chapter in "twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches", which explained different categories of gift giving, the three being as follows:

1: really expensive gifts

2: inexpensive gifts she'll really like

3: really, really expensive gifts which she'll really like

Still lost in thought, he had failed to notice the others moving on ahead of him, until Ginny called his name.

"you guys go on ahead, I just realized I need to get something from another store." They nodded, and he disappeared out of sight behind a bookshelf, before exiting the store, a wide grin on his face.

As he entered quality quidditch supplies, and noticed the price on the Storm Runner, he was immediately taken aback by how much of a deal Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Kingsley had gotten him. nonetheless, he had counted out a large sum at gringotts, and possessed just enough for the broom, and whatever else he needed, even with the added engraving he had done on the handle (his already said "property of Harry Potter" on it, so, with the extra money, he decided, why not?), which now said "Property of Ginny", having, on a whim of the crazy, hopeful, lovestruck kind, left out Weasley in hopes of further modification.

When at last he met up with Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, he was carrying the second broom under the invisibility cloak behind his back. To his surprise, it appeared that Ginny was carrying something behind her back as well.

"hi." Said Harry.

"hi." Ginny replied. It took only a second for Ron and Hermione to get the hint, and wander off, to do "that thing we forgot".

As they walked closer to each other, Harry could see that Ginny had, in addition to whatever she held behind her back, purchased some lilac scented perfume which, Harry thought, smelled absolutely spectacular on her.

"on three?" he asked. Ginny nodded.

"one, two, three.", and they displayed their respective gifts. Ginny was so taken off her feet by the sight of the broom that she nearly dropped her own gift in surprise. Then Harry saw it – a small golden egg, with a gleam that seamed to writhe like fire. Though he had never in his life seen anything remotely close to it in appearance, he knew exactly what it was.

"is that…"

"it's not a dragon's egg, no." said Ginny.

"no, it's the egg of a phoenix, isn't it?" she nodded.

"where did you find this?" Harry said, greatly astounded – this gift dwarfed his a thousand times over.

"Aberforth gave it to me after the battle, and I've been keeping it in my pocket ever since. Apparently, phoenixes only lay eggs once every six hundred years, and the Dumbledores had a phoenix, one that disappeared when Dumbledore's father died in Azkaban, but before it went, it laid two eggs. One was Fawks, and the other was this—" he held out the egg to him.

"Ab said it would never hatch for him, and told me maybe it would for me. Anyway, I don't think it's meant for me, either way." She said, rotating the egg, which gleamed in the sunlight, to a point where the flame like pattern converged in the shape of a lightning bolt. Harry reached out tentatively, and lay his hand over the egg. Immediately, he felt the warm beat of a heart within. The beat matched his own. Harry took Ginny's other hand in his, raised it to his lips, kissed her delicate fingers, before laying her hand upon the egg. Now he felt a third heartbeat, and this, too matched. Then, he felt the tremor within the egg, and a flash of light emanated from between their hands. When the light subsided, they moved their hands, and between them lay a baby phoenix; the tiniest tuft of downy soft purple, crimson and gold feathers. The baby bird chirped and whistled at them gaily, and Harry and Ginny smiled down at it, before looking up at each other.

"what shall we name him?" asked Ginny,

Harry thought a moment, gazing intently at Ginny, whose smile radiated a profound serenity – a smile which Harry felt he could hold in his eyes forever, yet the smile did not possess the name for which he searched. Then he looked to her deep brown eyes, and though he felt himself begin to slip into them, the name he sought was not hidden there either. Finally, he glanced at her fiery hair, which so uniquely matched her sense of determination and unfaltering bravery. That was it. He was sure of it.

"Vermillion." He said. "the bird's name is Vermillion."


	4. Reunions

Chapter Four

Reunions

As the days of a summer unburdened with the fear to which he was so accustomed drew on, Harry found himself restless. Now, with his seventeenth year closing rapidly on him, he missed the happy days he had found at Hogwarts. That day when he had first kissed Ginny in the middle of his sixth year seemed so distant now, so very far away. There were times, of course, when true happiness showed through, usually the times he spent with Ron and Hermione, caring for vermillion, who, though growing at an alarming rate, was still in his infancy, and, probably most of all, those precious moments he shared with Ginny.

With only three weeks left until the end of the summer, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny packed their things, and prepared to leave the burrow, under the auspices of meeting with professor McGonagall and arranging for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to return to school. in the past week, they had spent much time with Mr. Weasley, who, when Ginny told him of their plan, had, after expressing considerable reluctance, given in, and helped them with several backup plans. He was also a crucial part in convincing Mrs. Weasley that they weren't going to go running off on another adventure. Finally, the day arrived when the return letter came from Hogwarts. It had been a full four days since they had first sent their letter. It had taken that long largely because Ron had suggested that Pigwidgeon take the letter, since Vermillion still had some time before he was ready for long trips, or even the phoenix's brand of fiery apparation (Harry could only assume that newborn phoenixes had a different growth rate from recently reborn phoenixes, seeing as how Fawks had regenerated from a burning day within days, while vermillion had taken close to a week to reach adolescence).

It took a final impatient hour before they were fully ready to leave for Hogsmeade, and then they left the house, reassuring mrs. Weasley that they would return in three days at the most. With a final look back at the burrow, they turned on the spot, and found themselves looking at a tall man with a scraggly beard, and sparkling blue eyes, who stood behind the bar of the Hog's Head Inn.

"Don't tell me we're under attack again!" said Aberforth exasperatedly.

"Oh, sure," said Ron. "That and the sky's caving in, so we popped in to the hog's head for a visit."

"what Ron means to say is – well, come to think of it, why are we in the hog's head? I thought all agreed we were apparating into the three broomsticks."

Harry swept the room with eyes keen for danger. The Hog's head, even with Aberforth as its barman, was a place where the shadiest of characters came to quench their thirst, and Harry felt a sense of suspicious unease steal over him. There was no one in the room, but the door was still on its closing swing as his eyes turned towards it.

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of how I wanted to thank Ab for vermillion," said Ginny, sounding slightly confused, "so I guess our destination must have slipped my mind. Sorry guys." Harry was about to ask Ginny how none of them had splinched, if that was the case, when Aberforth cut in, and said "vermillion? Oh, you mean that phoenix egg. Hatched for you, did it? Well good for you. Never could get the blasted thing to hatch myself, though I did consider making an omelet with it on one occasion."

With that, the conversation took a different turn, and Harry soon forgot his question, and his unease.

Hogsmeade was a somewhat different place than last Harry had seen it. Even now, with the death eaters gone, the damage they left behind was still present. The shrieking shack, where Voldemort had murdered Severus Snape little more than a month and a half ago now stood open, the boards ripped from the door, which lay torn from one hinge. Zonko's Joke shop was still closed up, and Madame Puddifoot's, where Harry had once gone with his former girlfriend, Cho Chang, was burned to the ground. The town, unlike diagon alley, was for the most part devoid of tourists and visitors, though this could to some extent be attributed to the lack of Hogwarts students. as the four walked down the near empty main street, Harry got a sense of just how long it might take for the world to recover from Voldemort's attacks. Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of Hogwarts grounds. As they made their way up the hill towards the castle, they heard a familiar barking noise, and all at once, Hagrid was ambling towards them, fang loping at his enormous heels.

"Harry!" said Hagrid, as they rushed to meet him, at which point he engaged Harry in one of his crushing hugs. "Not that I ain't glad t' see yeh, but what're ye doing 'ere at Hogwarts in the middle o' summer?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione spoke from behind him. "We wanted to find out who the new headmaster is. We were considering coming back for an eighth year, since we sort of failed to attend our seventh." Harry didn't have to ask why they were telling Hagrid this half truth. Dumbledore had trusted Harry and his friends with this mission, and it was up to them to complete it, and, considering that the mission was cryptic to begin with, they were probably smart to not meander about with loose tongues.

as they made their way through the empty halls of Hogwarts, Harry felt a sense of nostalgic longing for his only true home. Despite the damage done by the rampaging giants, death eaters, and acromantulas a month and a half prior, the school seemed to have bounced back, and most of the damage had been repaired. As they approached the two recently restored gargoyles that led up to the headmaster's office, Harry heard the approach of hurried footsteps from behind them.

"Harry!" came the voice that went with the first set of footsteps. Harry recognized it as that of Neville Longbottom. Harry turned around just as Neville rounded the corner, followed closely by Luna Lovegood.

"Neville? What are you and Luna doing here?" asked Hermione, once the two had come close enough that they no longer had to shout.

"well, the two of us had been owling each other, and Luna got the idea that maybe, since last year was a bit of a flop, we should see if we could come back for an eighth year to make up for it, and Luna said that we should go today."

"I think I must have been possessed by a harbinging frumt – they have the unique ability to sense unexpected reunions before they occur" said Luna, matter of factly.

Harry thought he might have a better idea of how she knew they were coming, but there were more pressing matters at hand than knowing if Luna had the power of prophecy. Harry briefly met the gazes of Ginny, Ron and Hermione, who nodded in answer to the unasked question of whether they should tell the other two what was going on.

"We have something to tell you two, but I think it would be better said in private – can we head to the room of requirement?"

-

Though fiendfire had only touched one aspect of the room of requirement, when they entered the room, which had taken the form of their DA training room, the walls seemed tarnished, and the acrid smell of ash and smoke still hung in the air.

"The fiendfire must have damaged the integrety of the magical foundation of the room," said hermione, "I doubt it'll ever come back to it's old self." Ron nodded sympathetically.

"So, harry, what's on your mind?" asked neville, and harry began explaining about the mission that dumbledore had sent them on.

"...and so we came here to see dumbledore's portrait to see if we can get any additional information about magda allard. but it's important that you tell no-one else about this. I was warned that the danger in this should be considered no less than facing Voldemort."

Neville nodded sternly. "So we go to see dumbledore's portrait, and then what?"

"then we use whatever information we can get to track down Magda Allard."


End file.
